Of course, they must dismiss Pelletier after their marriage. Jules would take charge of his wife's affairs; his capacity for business would enable him to make good terms for her. He would plan wonderful tours; he would write to America, perhaps, and secure engagements for her there; artists were wonderfully well paid in America, better than in any other country, and they would enjoy seeing the new world together. Blanche listened to his talk with a touching confidence; she seemed to think it natural that he should speak as if he had authority over her. She made no protest against any of his suggestions, though she repeated that nothing could be decided till her mother returned to Paris. "But we'll write to your mother," said Jules. "We'll write to her this very day--this afternoon when we go back." For a moment her face clouded. "What's the matter? Don't you want me to write to your mother?" She did not reply at once. When she did speak, she kept her eyes fixed on her plate. "It will be so hard to be separated from her." Jules laughed, and bent toward her. "But you can't stay with her always," he said tenderly. "Then we'll take Madeleine with us. That will be a capital plan. She's strong and healthy, though she's over sixty, and she won't mind the travelling. Besides, we shall be in Vienna three months, and we'll rent a little apartment. It will be like being at home." He spoke as if their future were settled, and his tone of confidence seemed to reassure her. "I should like to have Madeleine," she said simply. "She is so good." On their return to the apartment, they devoted themselves to writing long letters to Madame Perrault. Jules' letter was full of rhapsodies, of promises to be kind to the girl who had consented to be his wife, and of his plans for the future. They read their letters to each other, or rather Jules read all of his, and Blanche read part of hers, firmly refusing to allow him to hear the rest. They spent a very happy afternoon together, and in the evening Madeleine had a sumptuous dinner for them, with an enormous bunch of fresh roses on the table. In the evening they went to the _Comédie Française_, to finish what Jules declared to be the happiest day of his life.